Something Red
by newvagabond
Summary: Ratchet/Knock Out. Nonsticky. Plug n play, tactile. Medics! Yes. Always had a thing for doctors. Been meaning to write this one for a long time.


**N/A: Ratchet/Knock Out. Nonsticky. Plug n play, tactile. **

Medics! Yes. Always had a thing for doctors. Been meaning to write this one for a long time.

_"Two medics stuck in a hole. No reason to fight, now is there?"_

* * *

The last thing Ratchet heard before the earth crumbled around them was Bulkhead's voice somewhere down the cavern corridor. Of course he should've waited. Of course it was embarrassingly foolish of him to chase after the shiny red sports car.

He was paying for his actions now, locked in a staredown with the Decepticon medic. The dust hadn't even cleared and he could make out that aggravating grin. Ratchet held his blades up, keeping his pedes apart in case he needed to jump back. Not that there was much room, he'd hit the wall for sure. They each had two, maybe three steps of room before them. Scrap.

Just when he was certain he might have to fight to survive, Knock Out slowed his saw to a lazy stop. With a smile, he retracted the weapon and released a servo, turning it around to show that it was bare.

Ratchet looked him up and down but did not dare lower his cyber scalpels. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Knock Out straightened his stance. "Two medics stuck in a hole. No reason to fight, now is there?"

The Autobot squinted, unmoving and untrusting.

After a moment, Knock Out rolled his eyes lightly and lowered onto the cavern floor. "Suit yourself," he drawled, stretching his legs out.

Ratchet pressed his mouthplate thin before freeing a servo to touch the side of his helm. "Arcee," he called. "Bulkhead." He took a step, knees bent in the low hole. Knock Out hadn't had a problem standing at his full height in it, but Ratchet kept bumping his head. After nearly bending his antennae in half, he pulled it into his frame and kept trying to reach the team.

"Bumblebee," he vocalized, pushing at a boulder. Bulkhead would have no trouble at all smashing it away. But a medic? Two medics? Maybe. If they worked together. Ha!

He didn't give up. Kept pulling at rocks, activating his commlink and grinding his dentals when no one answered. All the while Knock Out remained sitting in an annoyingly leisurely fashion, as though he were about to get his claws filed.

Crimson optics kept flicking over to watch Ratchet, and whenever he turned to be sure the 'con wasn't going to jump him, Knock Out looked away.

After another few kliks, the red mech spoke up. "It'll probably be some time before either party finds us," he said, looking his claws over and squinting at the dirt.

The 'bot kept trying to move the rocks with one servo and failing. "So?"

"_So_, you should know better than to burn fuel in this type of, ah, predicament." He grinned at Ratchet's glare. "Have a seat, stay awhile."

The Autobot's gears ground together in a snort. But... he did have a point. There was no use wasting energy trying to move the debris. He would just tire himself out and where would that leave him if his unwanted companion did decide to attack?

With a sigh he transformed his weapon back into a hand and lowered down. The end he was on didn't have quite as much room and so he kept his legs bent. At least he still had some space. That didn't stop the other mech from staring, though.

Knock Out gave a lofty exvent.

Ratchet now rolled his optics. "What, bored already?"

"Mmhm," the other answered, flicking a rock with his pointer. It cracked into dust against the wall like it was made out of powder.

"Well," Ratchet vocalized, almost laughing at himself for this ridiculous situation. It was just his luck to get stuck in a cave with the most annoying Decepticon he could think of. "I'm sorry I don't carry cards on me." He didn't look at him and kept a hand near his audial so that he could keep trying to ping the other 'bots every so often.

"Cards aren't really my thing anyway." Knock Out flicked another rock, and he may or may not have aimed it at Ratchet's leg.

"I Spy then," Ratchet said, desperately trying to get a signal to Optimus as he saw the confused narrow to Knock Out's optics. He felt silly then and waved a servo. "The children play it—it's—nevermind."

Knock Out shifted, and Ratchet thanked Primus he didn't make a comment about the children. But what he did say would take a moment to process.

"Hmm. I'd rather play a more grown up sort of game."

Ratchet turned with a perplexed expression on his plate that was immediately swallowed down when he saw the way the 'con was sitting. Legs spread, leaning back, chassis glittering despite the dirt from the cave in, optics half-shuttered.

I spy with my little eye... Oh, for Primus' sake, no!

"_What!" _he spluttered and rose up, promptly bonking his helm against the ceiling and knocking pebbles down over himself.

Knock Out gave a small chuckle, in a low tone that was barely detectable by audials but that had a very specific frequency to it that would tingle any mech's chassis. "Of course our..." He gestured at their surroundings. "_setting_ isn't ideal, but at least it's private."

The Autobot was still scrambling for words. "You're... glitched!"

The red 'con simply smiled at him, denta shining in the dimly lit cave. "Not glitched," he corrected. "I just don't see the point in wasting such a good opportunity."

Ratchet laughed now and looked up in exasperation. "Opportunity," he repeated, like he couldn't believe his audials. It was bad enough he was trapped with this _hack, _but he'd just been propositioned! By a Decepticon!

... A shiny red one that was a fellow medic. That by the looks of his plating, took very good care of himself. Daily buffing, surely. Weekly waxing. He probably had the cleanest spark chamber, the most pristine filters, the purest cleanser reserve. And his alt-mode of choice had the kind of curves that even the dullest Vehicon could appreciate. Perfectly aligned seams tapering down to swaying hip joints. His HUD opened up logs and nagged him with requests to catalogue vocal frequency.

Ratchet shook his helm almost violently. He felt his faceplate begin to heat, and it didn't help that Knock Out was still looking at him with those sharp optics and sitting like that_, by the All Spark, close your legs!_

"I'm not fr-fragging a Decepticon in_ here!" _

Knock Out blinked then smiled. "Claustrophobic?"

"What?" Ratchet squawked. "No, I—"

"Hmm? What is it then? Afraid I'll hack you?"

Ratchet's optics widened. Before he could give an answer, the younger medic spoke again.

"I don't blame you. Any older mech might have trouble keeping his firewalls strong. On the Nemesis, I have top-notch software. It's as easy as plugging in and... Well, what am I telling you for? You were around when such upgrades were readily available."

The older medic was still standing, plates clamped tightly in indignation. Oh, he was mad now. "I've been manually upgrading since before you were sparked, _'con," _he ground out.

"So you're fully protected. What's the problem, then?" Knock Out challenged. Ratchet knew this was scrapshit, knew he was being manipulated, but he could not take his optics off of that red paint, those gleaming headlights, those thin claws so perfect for surgery... He wanted to show him just what this old mech could do. Shut that stupid hack mouth up.

Ratchet stood silent and grinding dentals for a few kliks before finally taking a step and lowering down again. Knock Out's field positively beamed. The cat that caught the canary. Or, the Aston that caught the ambulance in this case.

With a smug smirk, Knock Out scooted closer, letting a servo rest on his companion's knee. "You first, old timer. Show me what you got."

The 'bot's system lurched at that... that fragging _voice_. Primus. He was already heating up. He took in a ventilation to steady himself, bringing a hand up. It hovered awkwardly before landing on chestplate. Knock Out purred, but waited patiently for the Autobot to make his move.

Ratchet leaned in, pressing his mouthplate into his rival's while shuttering optics tight. After a stiff moment he pulled away.

Knock Out had his ridges raised in comical concern. "Is that it?" he asked, almost looking like he was trying not to laugh.

Ratchet could feel his plates tightening in embarrassment.

"No wonder you were reluctant to start, if that's what you call a—" Knock Out found his backstrut being shoved into the wall and a _very_ hot mouthplate crushing into his own. Pebbles trickled down onto them but neither seemed to notice.

Blunt digits gripped red plating, digging and smoothing over perfect transformation seams. Ratchet grabbed him and pushed him down into the rocky floor. Engines roared with a thunderous force.

"Frag, yes, plug in," Knock Out panted, wrapping his legs around Ratchet's frame and bringing him closer.

Ratchet responded by scraping a finger just under the ventral plating where the automobile's grill was. Knock Out stiffened in a wash of pleasure, thrumming his field hard in an aching throb.

Slag. Well. This was unexpected. "I, ah, don't suppose you're angry about..."

Servo slid up chassis to rest just under the headlights which flickered in anticipation. Knock Out was easily silenced by the gesture, taken aback by the ease of the wound-up medic's intimacy. Definitely hadn't expected this at all. Oh, but frag, he really needed to interface, like _now._

"Come on," he rasped, tugging at Ratchet's grill, grinding his hips up. He revealed an open port just to the right of where the hand was.

Ratchet's energy field was exploding with arousal and dominance, an entirely new sensation for him. At least without the influence of Synth-En. The sight of Knock Out beneath him like that made his systems ping eagerly. He would frag him alright.

With his free hand he grasped both of Knock Out's wrists and pinned them over the Decepticon's head. The younger mech was completely stunned, looking up with wide optics. Every plate and sensor nodule seemed to become hyper-sensitive, positively begging for love. And Ratchet knew this. They were both medics, after all. They both knew just where to touch, how to manipulate the frame, how to decipher an energy field. Knock Out's was already bursting, charge racing in licks across his beautiful frame.

It only took another few kliks of stillness for him to growl needily. A red cable snaked out from plating in desperation, and even Ratchet couldn't resist its crackling charge at that point. He revealed his panel and nearly choked as Knock Out freed his wrists and snatched the cable roughly. They connected to each other almost simultaneously, throwing helms back as the feedback slammed their systems. The earth around them vibrated with the force of their engines. Everything buzzed.

When he was finally able to see straight, the Autobot took a few ventilations and started a current. He thrummed energy through their link and Knock Out gave a long, gorgeous moan, helm still tilted back. Legs shook around Ratchet's waist.

This wasn't going to last long. They were already so overstimulated just from plugging in it was a wonder they hadn't just immediately overloaded.

The older medic took advantage of that exposed neck and opened mouthplate against smooth cabling. That seemed to light the red mech up even more and he bucked up against the 'bot with a yell.

Frag, that was definitely going to do it. Ratchet swore raspily and grabbed hold of Knock Out's middle, lifting him and grinding down to scrape their frames together in a noisy, hot mash of metal.

He was powerless against overload, hitting him in a visible explosion of electricity, frame seizing as he sank denta into a neck cable to keep from shouting. Knock Out wasn't quite so modest and screamed when the feedback engulfed his sensornet, kicking a pede and rolling optics in an utter loss of control.

Static fizzled up to their helms where it popped out, barely heard over their harsh ventilations. Ratchet finally pried his fingers from the 'con's hips and... oops. He'd left dents. Carefully he unplugged and sat back, field in a dizzying tangle.

Knock Out remained splayed on the ground, letting coolant run through his system.

"Not bad," he panted, digging a little in the dirt with his claws.

Ratchet snorted as his fans worked, shamefully pleased by the scent of scorching hot metal and ozone in their little cave. He rested his helm back against the wall.

Suddenly Knock Out sat up and stretched his arms up over his head. "Wanna go again?"

Blue optics blinked. By the Allspark. He was going to have to learn to say _no_ one of these days.

Today was not one of those days.

"Maybe slower this time," he vocalized, moving debris away from his legs.

Knock Out chuckled as he lowered onto the Autobot's lap. "Ratchet," he all but purred. "Nothing is _slow_ when I'm around. Now do me hard."

When the others had blasted enough walls to find their medic, Ratchet was thankfully already standing and helped move the rest of the blockage. Arcee's optics fell on the Decepticon lounging against the wall with a bright blue shard between his claws. He brought it to his lip plates and waved hello as he took a lazy drag.

Arcee scraped a hand over her faceplate and groaned.


End file.
